Once a Phantom
by RandomIsMyMind
Summary: 6 years after the tragedy, Erik finds himself living in a loft in Paris, selling operas to the Opera Houses. Fed up with the lack of talent and his own lack of inspiration, he decides to take matters into his own hands. MovieMusicalBased. EOW.
1. Prologue

A/N: Okay, this is my veeeery first attempt at a phan-fic, so please go easy on me. Also, just a few notes before rehearsal st- I mean the story starts. I have read Leroux's novel, I have seen the musical with various casts, and I have seen the movie, so anyone flaming me saying that I'm an ignorant Gerry Phangirl will not be tolerated.

This story will primarily be musical/movie based, you know, with the Phantom having a nose and all, with maybe a few details from the novel thrown in. Though…I really would like to have a Leroux Meg, since she's not the hot little thing that ALW/Joel Schumacher have made her out to be. Anyways!

I will not claim that I am the first person to ever think of this idea, for I know I am not. I know that this is yet again, a cliché plot line, but I really truly hope to manage some originality in it. I also am trying my best to make it seem like a direct flow from the movical (pronounced movie-cul. It's my new word to save form having to say movie/musical). I don't like stories that have no logical connection so I'm going to try my best to make sure that this one does.

For my descriptions of Erik, I will be using Gerry Phantom, just because he's a more permanent movical phantom. I like the musical phantoms, but they change a lot and I was never really close enough to get a good look. Anyways! Enough rambling, on with the story! Review please!

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**Prologue**

Erik sighed heavily, staring at the blank sheet music on his desk. It had been six years since the tragedy at the Populaire Opera House. Six years since he had lost his beloved Christine. Since then, he had managed to find a loft in Paris willing to take payment from a man that would not be seen. He made a living writing operas and selling them to other opera houses with the assistance of a man by the name of Blaise Roux. Blaise wasn't a very strong-tongued man, stuttering quite badly when intimidated, but he got the job done, and never questioned Erik's privacy.

He shook his head. He wasn't inspired now. His last 9 operas had all been about heartbreak, a story he knew all to well. He loved Christine, right? Of course. That's why he let her go. He let her leave with Raoul.

"Of course, right this way, Mademoiselle Girard, Angelique, you said your name was?" Erik heard Madame Rousseau say below him. Erik lived in the top loft, with a window, a door in the floorboards to enter and exit from, and all the privacy he could ask for. Madame Rousseau was the hostess for the boarders who lived in the same boarding house as Erik. He walked over to his door and lifted it slightly to look out at this Mademoiselle Girard.

"Yes, Angelique Marie Girard." She said, smiling. She turned back and looked at the ceiling. It was then she noticed a door there, slightly cracked. "Madame, is that another loft there?" she asked, pointing to the door.

"Oh yes, but I would not go pounding on it. Monsieur is very private. I've never even seen him," she replied.

"Never seen him? Doesn't that worry you at all?" Angelique asked.

"He pays his rent on time, and does not disturb anyone, including me. I could not ask for a better boarder." The old woman smiled with a toothy grin. "This is your room, Mademoiselle. I do hope you will be satisfied here."

"I'm sure I will be. Thank you very much."

Erik watched until Angelique had entered the room, then closed his own door. Angelique was a very lovely young woman, he had to admit, but nowhere near as lovely as Christine. He wondered where she was now. She and Raoul had to be married by now, with at least two or three children. It pained him to think of it. He had given everything for her, and in the end, she repaid him by abandoning him.

Erik's thoughts were interrupted by thumping below him. Angelique's room was right below his work area. She must have been unpacking. 'She better not be too loud,' he thought to himself as he lied down on his bed, attempting to drift off to sleep.

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A/N: Allright…that's one chapter down. Review please, but don't flame, okay? Constructive criticism is great, gushing praise is even better, but flames…they hurt where my heart is. Anyways, love you bye! 


	2. Angelique

A/N: Okay, So I'm posting the new chapter just because I had it ready. I wouldn't expect chapter 3 for another week or so, unless I get inspired. I'm going to try my best and hardest to update regularly, but as I will be starting college soon, I don't know how well that's gonna work. Anyways, Thanks for the support. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1**

The rays of the sun shone through the window, waking Erik up from the deep slumber, wherein he dreamt that Christine had come to him, singing the song she and Raoul had shared on the rooftop.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude." a female voice sang.

Erik sat up quickly. "Christine?" he asked aloud, wondering if it had been a dream. Then he realized. "No, that's not Christine. The voice is not pure enough. But…who is it?" He realized the song was coming from below his workspace. "Angelique…" he muttered. Who was this woman here to haunt him?

"Say you want me with you here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too," Angelique sang, as she was tidying up her room.

"Where did you learn that song?" a voice boomed above her.

She jumped. "Who's there?"

"No one of any importance. Now tell me, where did you learn that song?"

Angelique looked around, wondering where the voice is coming from. "It's from an opera, Don Juan Triumphant. I was at the premiere,six years ago, the night the Phantom that had plagued the Populaire Opera House died. He sang that part. I didn't know it was him at the time, but I noticed the voice was considerably different from Piangi's. I read in the newspaper the next day that it had been the so-called phantom. It's been six years, but I can still hear him.He's been in my mind ever since. His voice, it's haunting." She paused, wondering what caused her to spill her heart like this."It sounds crazy, I know. But it's the reason I'm trying to get into opera myself."

Erik was silent. He was dead, was he? In any case, this girl remembered his part in the opera. Couldn't forget it, even. It was beautiful. The sound of his and Christine's voices merging into one. Beautiful.AndthenChristine ripped off his mask, and ripped open his heart. The mask… "Tell me, when the Phantom was revealed, did you see his hideous face?"

"I was so far back I could hardly see anything, much less his face. I really would have liked to, though. It couldn't be nearly as bad as everyone made it out to be."

"You'd be surprised." Erik was silent for a few more moments. He wanted to inspire someone again, be inspired by someone again, anything to get his mind away from Christine, but could he deal with the pain of rejection again? He had learned from the ordeal with Christine that no matter what you gave to someone, they could just take it and leave, without leaving anything in return. 'I just won't get involved this time. I'll chase her away after she succeeds.' He nodded in agreement with himself. "Angelique?"

"Yes?"

"I could teach you. I could help you with your singing. Make you an opera star."

Angelique gasped. "How is it so? Could you really?"

"Yes, but you must do everything I tell you to, and nothing less, nothing more. Understand?"

"I don't have much to pay you." Angelique admitted.

"I don't require payment," Erik replied, almost too quickly.

"No payment? What are you getting out of this? Why should you help me if you get nothing in return?" The girl asked.

"I am hoping to receive something, but it is not something that is yours to hand out. It is merely something that you will help me achieve."

"And what is that?"

"Closure."

Angelique blinked a few times. What did he means by closure? Se didn't have time to ponder, because the voice started to sing.

"You want all to love you,

I only wanted one.

But now, to close the last door,

There's one thing I must ask for.

You must do all I tell you,

Until my job is done.

And then, my heart will be free.

There's nothing else to hurt me.

Say you'll help me clear the pain I carry.

The burden's far too much for me to bear.

Say you'll take away my hurt and sorrow.

Promise me that what I say, you'll do.

That's all I ask of you."

Angelique gasped. His voice. It sounded just like... No, that was a foolish thought. The phantom died six years ago. But the voice did sound identical to the one that refused to leave her dreams. "Good Monsieur, I agree to your terms, but what shall I call you?"

"Call me... Erik."

"Very well, Erik. Teach away."

XXYYZZ

Erik stood in his apartment, pacing back and forth. It had been a week since her took Angelique as his pupil. This was a mistake. A mistake. Angelique was good, yes, but Christine was far better. He remembered reading in the paper three years ago that Christine had retired to the country to start a family with her Raoul. A waste. An absolute waste. Such talent, such promise, and she threw it away, for **him**. He shook his head. Angelique would get better. She had the potential.

There was a knock on Erik's door. "Who is it?" he called.

"Monsieur, it is Blaise. I received your message. What is so urgent?"

Erik sneered at the stuttering voice below him. He opened his door slightly and tossed down a leather pouch. "I need a grate."

"A grate, Monsieur?" Blaise asked.

"Yes, a grate! Once that can be closed. And be quick about it. I must have it by nightfall!"

"Ah, Oui, Monsieur. Is that all?"

Erik paused. "Blaise, do you remember the novelty masks they sold six years ago, after the incident at the Populaire? The masks that were made to resemble the one the so-called Phantom of the Opera wore?"

"Oui, I bought one for my nephew!"

"Find me one."

"I shall do my best,"

"No!" Erik roared. "You will find one, or no one will ever find you."

"Yes, Monsieur! I will find one!" He was obviously frightened, the stuttering had gotten much worse.

"I also require a wig. Black, slicked back, or able to be slicked back." He cringed slightly, taking a glance to the cracked mirror in the corner and seeing his deformity.

"I will do as you say. You by far have the oddest requests I have ever heard."

Erik looked around his room. He had to admit, Blaise was right. Every whim he had, he sent Blaise chasing after it. His room was full of random objects that he sent Blaise looking for all over Paris.

Blaise continued. "We must discuss your latest opera. The Opera House is demanding it."

"Demand?" Erik asked, contemptuously. "They dare demand my opera? I could easily pull my masterpieces away, and leave them with nothing but their half-rate talent."

"I apologize for the lack of skill, Monsieur, but with all due respect, since the incident with the Phantom of the Opera, many people with the skills to excel have shied away from the Houses, for fear of a repeat incident," Blaise shook his head below, looking around the hallway, jingling the money bag.

The words hit Erik hard. He'd given his life to opera. Now to learn that his foolish actions for the love of an ungrateful woman were causing his first love to fail…It was almost too much take. No. There was still talent. But she was not ready, no, not yet. "My opera will not be completed soon. Not until I am sure that I have adequate talent for it. There is a young woman who has moved in below me. She will be the star. But I must make sure that she is ready. Then may you have the opera. Now go, I need those items."

Blaise nodded. "Yes, Monsieur. I will be back quickly." He bowed and took for the stairs.

Erik looked out the window, a softly began to sing.

"My songs will soar again,

On angel's wings.

They'll long to hear her voice,

Hear how she sings.

But will she realize,

But will she find?

The Phantom of the Opera is there,

Inside her mind."

XXYYZZ

Angelique dashed through the crowd, anxious to get back home to talk to Erik, to sing, to learn. She knew nothing about him, though. Why was he so secretive?

"I dreamt I sang for him,

I dreamt he cheered.

Who is this hidden man?

Should he be feared?

But somewhere deep inside,

I'm in a bind.

The Phantom of the Opera is here,

Inside my mind."

She finally made it home, and shut the door to her apartment. Falling on the bed, she sighed, then called out to him. "Master! Teacher! Erik! Speak, I beg you, let me know you're here."

Erik turned his head to the floorboards where Angelique's voice was coming from. "Home already?" he replied. "Why are you not still at the Opera House?"

"You're there!" he heard her voice exclaim.

"I'm always here. I never leave. You, on the other hand, have left the opera house early, and I demand a reason. Were all the dancers dismissed?"

"Yes, everyone was. La Carlotta demanded a day off. What am I going to learn today?"

Carlotta. That bag of hot air was still singing at opera houses? Still stealing the spotlight away from the talent? He'd hoped that since Piangi was dead she would have left for good. Apparently, she was willing to risk death for fame. Well, that would change for sure when he was done. "I am not prepared for a lesson. Sing for me."

"What shall I sing?"

"I don't know. Sing whatever you feel."

Angelique was silent for a few moments. Then the sound of her voice filled Erik's loft, her sweet voice, swirling around everything.

"Help me, Teach me,

Make me understand you.

I'm lost, Confused,

Don't know what I can do.

Tell me what to say, when the words have gone away.

I cannot sing without the words you write.

The magic of the music of the night."

Erik smiled. "Brava, Angelique. Your voice is getting strong. But you still have a lot to learn before you can truly understand the music of the night."

"I will get better, Erik. Watch me."

He smirked. "Oh, I will."

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A/N: Okay, I'm done, PLEASE review! Love ya, bye! 


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